Drabbles Colour's Competition 2013
by leylinjan
Summary: Here is the collection of my drabbles for the colour's competition starting April13. I don't plan at this moment to explore any of these further, but we'll see :))
1. The Head Boy: Graduating Class of

**A.N.: Don't own HP and the Something. Not any of them. Ask J.K. Rowling whether she has an awesome penname just like mine with the same number and order of letters, and she'll tell you she's sad that idea was taken already. Ergo: she = not me. Me = not her. Capisce?**

**.**

* * *

.

"We have gathered here today to say goodbye to one of the most promising graduating class Hogwarts has had during its lifetime!", Headmaster Dippet said proudly. "When you all came here to us seven years ago…" Albus turned him out. Headmaster Dippet, or rather Dippet as he liked to call him in his mind, loved to hold long and pointless speeches. Albus thought he rather loved to hear himself talk. 'Promising class', he thought self-appreciative, 'that may be, but the real reasons for that are certainly clear to everyone here…'

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore prided himself in being highly intelligent, highly ambitious, and graced with amazingly powerful magic. He knew that some of his classmates were also quite smart, or even ambitious or powerful, but all three… 'And what is magic, or even intelligence, without ambition? And what is ambition without purpose?'

He was destined for greatness.

Albus continued to reflect on his school years, while he examined the audience with his eyes. He was sitting right beside the podium on which the Headmaster was still holding his 'speech'. He rolled his eyes. Going on to thinking about his future plans, he barely paused as he caught the eyes of his younger brother, Aberforth, who was sitting right beside his mother, who was crying. As always. Aberforth's eyes were dark and he couldn't identify the emotions they conveyed. His brother didn't smile at him, he knew Albus better than anyone else at the moment.

Albus hated that about him.

Even as he continued to look at the other guests, he could still feel these strangely accusing eyes on him. What did Aberforth know? His little brother's sense of righteousness and morality was really going overboard with that one. Life would wait for someone like him, yes, but it wasn't RIGHT!

"… Head boy's speech: Albus Percival Dumbledore!"

The headmaster smiled at the audience, and waved invitingly towards Albus.

Albus decided not to think about his brother anymore.

He had a speech to hold.

.

.

* * *

_A.N.: R&R Please_

_A.N.2: Drabble Yellow Positive for the Color's competition (April 10)_


	2. The Rich Boy: Expectations

Colour: green

Words: 436

* * *

"Zacharias Xerxes Smith! If you are not sitting at your desk down here in thirty seconds I _will _come and get you!", Zacharias' mother's voice echoed thorough the stairwell.

"And trust me, young man you _do not want that to happen!"_

The child in question was currently biting his tongue with his front teeth in deep concentration. He furrowed his brow as he felt one of his coloured marbles fall out of his pocket. He heard the impact clearly, but chose not to look down.

Best not to think about it.

Sometimes, he could really see the point in behaving like an ostrich ( - he always listened when his nanny told him fantastical stories about exotic, sometimes even _muggle_ animals - ) but even that was not possible, considering that he was still _twenty-five feet over the ground! _And in a hurry, considering his mother always stood by her word. The clock was ticking.

He exhaled loudly.

Not that he had a fear of heights, mind you. But standing on a windowsill nearly three storeys off the ground, with just the gutter to hold on to would make anyone uncomfortable. Even him, though he was not just _anyone_ – he was a Smith! _The_ Smith. Heir to one of the most influential families in the wizarding world. The Smiths were a family of merchants, right there with the Malfoys and Potters, now that the Blacks had fallen so far over the last twenty years.

But he hated the constant tutoring, the never-ending etiquette lessons, the fancy dinner and tea parties he was always dragged to by his mother. And his father was never there, just running from one business meeting into the other. It seemed as he was only ever there to scold him.

"Yes!", Zacharias exclaimed whispering excitedly.

He had finally managed to pull himself onto the roof and scurried, feet on both sides of the ridge, towards the big chimney. His favourite place, hidden from everyone – his mother would have his head if she knew of it – and a great vantage point from which he could both look on one side into the courtyard and on the other side across the family's lands.

Some days, he spent several hours just lying there, observing the birds that nested on the far side of the roof and his mother running around in the sitting room, which was on the other side of the courtyard. She was still calling for him. Who _cared_ about stupid _perfect_ 'My Daddy is the Greatest' big-headed little Malfoy – clone's stupid birthday party? He, for sure, did not.

Here, he was free.

* * *

_**R&R, please ;)**_


End file.
